“Since when are you traditional?”
“Since I married you with mere days to spare before you had my baby, I guess,” he teases.
“Eww, patriarchy.” I gasp as he lifts me with shocking ease, carrying me like a damsel in distress over the threshold. “If you end up throwing your back out and can’t bone me on our wedding night, I’ll cocking well kill you.”
He snorts. “Baby, I could bench press two of you in my sleep. And besides, holding my wife and my baby together? Best thing I’ll ever do.”
I melt, and for once, I decide not to hide it. He’s myhusband. I think it’s fair to say I can let down my barriers and relax my tough exterior with this guy.
I sigh as I think that this will be one of our last chances to be together, just the two of us. Gary’s at Liaden and Dean’s, probably being spoiled and taught Swedish swear words and chattered to within an inch of his life. The time between now and when I give birth can now be measured in days rather than months. A part of me wishes we could have just been Leo and Sadie for a longer time before we embarked on parenthood. Having said that, though, I already adore this little sweetie, and I can’t wait to be able to give him or her a proper cuddle.
But I’m still going to make the most of tonight.
“OK, you can put me down, now,” I say, trying to shift my feet to the floor.
“Don’t be in such a hurry.” He grins down at me, and my younger self high fives me in my head for having such a sexy husband. My piratical dynamo of charisma, so handsome and kind and hilarious. I’d originally intended to marry Matthew Lillard, but Leo Mills will do, I guess.
God, I love him.
“I love you,” I tell him, seeing no reason not to.
“I love you, too.” He carries me into our bedroom, setting me down with a mischievous look, like a surprise is now revealed. I turn, and smile. The huge floor to ceiling windows are framed with flowers and fairy lights, and the bed is covered in rose petals in all shades of red and pink. He must have spent ages getting this ready while I was at Mum’s for the night before the wedding. “Traditional,” I observe.
“See? Nothing wrong with a bit of old school.” He picks up a small remote control from the entertainment unit close to the door, andRumoursby Fleetwood Mac starts playing quietly in the background as he takes me in his arms, slow dancing me towards the windows with all the love he’s ever felt for me in his eyes. “You’re so pretty, Mrs Mills.”
I open my mouth to tell him I’m still going to be Sadie Stewart, on principle, but I pause. Sadie Mills sounds better to me in my head. And why would I want to keep a surname I share with my stuck up shithead of a father when I could share a name with the best person I know? In a split second, I change my mind, drop the intention of a lifetime, and decide I will be changing my name after all. It’s still my choice, after all. “You’re not half bad yourself, Mr Mills.”
His smile is slow, but complete, taking over his face slowly and entirely. Bending his neck, he takes my lips in the gentlestkiss, and it makes my brain spin like I’m a bit drunk. He’s in no hurry; it’s as though something in him has relaxed, no longer needing to greedily soak up our time together just while it lasts, and he takes his time as Stevie Nicks starts serenading us withDreams.
Urging me to turn, he helps me out of my clothes, out of the dress that made me feel gorgeous and not just gorgeous-for-a-heavily-pregnant-bride, and lays me down on the rose petals once I’m naked. I watch, enjoying the view as he takes off his shirt and trousers, the same clothes he wore at Em and Eli’s wedding when I impulsively kissed him and set us on the journey to where we are now. I noticed the moment I saw him at the registry office; it was a nice touch.
Once he’s naked, too, he lays behind me, spooning me, both of us sprawled across the width of the bed. There’s no urgency in him as he runs his hands over my body, tracing the lines and curves of my tattoo as well as my flesh; just appreciation and enjoyment. By the time he finally parts my thighs, I’m on fire for more.
And he tortures me still more in the best way as he slowly slides into me from behind, making me feel and appreciate every last inch of him on the way in and on the way out. It makes me want to beg, but I also don’t want it to end because every cell in my body is alive with it all. I can only take it, and it feels like the pleasure issoclose, and yet nowhere within reach until Leo allows it to happen.
And I trust him to time it perfectly.
He keeps at it, only picking up the speed a tiny bit, and just lets it unfold as it will. No teasing, just an unspoken insistence on not rushing anything. And he was right: the reward is the most incredible orgasm that seems to have no end and no beginning, dancing along my flesh and making me gasp. I can feel myself smiling throughout, not questioning anything, noimpulse to tease or torment him in retribution. No need to be on my guard, or give as good as I get. I’ve never felt so free and so peaceful.
Because he loves me. And that love, built on the foundation of the friendship that was so precious to me and that I was so petrified of losing, is the new bedrock of my life.
Hisclimax seems to be as intense as mine, condensed into a shorter flash of time; he shouts, he pants, he clutches me tightly, and afterwards he takes ages to catch his breath.
“Goddamn, Wifey,” he chuckles, unable to lift his head off the duvet.
“Nowthere’sa nickname,” I joke, but I don’t want to talk any further.
Instead I just lace my fingers with his, hold our linked hands against where our baby sleeps, and sigh with contentment as my husband and I drift off.
CHAPTER THIRTY
Leo
“Leo, will you stop bloody fidgeting,” Sadie grumbles at me after the latest contraction. There’s no real malice in her voice; she’s just getting tired and still staying admirably focused.
We’ve been at the birthing centre for around six hours now, and I have so many feelings crowding my head and my heart that I just don’t know what to do with myself. I’m as wired as if I’d taken enough cocaine to satisfy every storyline ofMiami Vice, and have been since she woke me up at around two a.m. with a hearty shove, telling me that she definitely didn’t just piss the bed, so her water must have broken.
There’s nothing that’s going to wake you up more than that.
